A Study of Opposites
by SableUnstable
Summary: Two very different people and one ridiculous law. Learning to accept what is, embrace what you have, and maybe, just maybe, falling in love in the process. Two-shot, post-war AU, HG/SB, past WolfStar, rated M for language and adult content. Written for Worthfull1.
1. Chapter 1

**A Study of Opposites**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Remus would be real. Wait up, did I say Remus? I meant Sirius. Right. Sirius.

**Part One**

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**A/N- This story was originally a one-shot that ended up being the freaking longest chapter I've ever written. Siriusly. It was pretty close to 11,000 words. So I decided to split it. Gift fic for the amazing _Worthfull1_ because she wrote me an amazing RL/HG/SB called _To Have Your Cake._ Thank you my friend and I hope you like! I'll post the second part soon!**

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They were as different as chalk and cheese.

Sirius Black had been a wilful, disobedient, terrified child, who turned into an arrogant, restless, popular teenager, and was now a confident, congenial, semi-mature adult. Hermione Granger had been a respectful, well-read, intelligent child, who turned into a bossy, eager-to-please, frightened teenager, and was now a quietly poised, passionate, semi-contented adult. The war was over, had been for a few months, and both Hermione and Sirius were slowly learning to live in a world where blood and death weren't an everyday occurrence.

Their entire culture was learning. It was a long, drawn-out process; one Hermione and Sirius were doing their best to help shuffle along, albeit in different ways. Hermione was very vocal when it came to creature and muggle-born rights and getting Hogwarts open again for the coming year, even though she wasn't going to be one of the returning students. She had a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and was moonlighting for the Department of Magical Education. She had no need to return to Hogwarts.

Sirius was helping see to the capture of stray Death Eaters, and once they were in custody, making sure they got a fair trial – whether they deserved one or not. He had been offered his old job back as an Auror, but had turned it down in favour of trying to change laws instead of enforcing them. It was very slow going, filled with long meetings and endless paperwork, but it was a process he was surprising enjoying.

They were working towards a common goal, but going about it entirely differently, and both were positive that their course of action was the right and most important one to take.

Sirius worked hard during the day and played hard at night. He spent a lot of time in pubs with a drink in his hand and a bird – or sometimes a bloke – under his arm. He justified his thrice-weekly jaunts by saying that he'd lived through and had been innocently incarcerated at the end of the first war, became a fugitive and died in the second, and then had come back just in time to help his godson kick some Voldemort and Death Eater arse during that war's closing years. He deserved to let loose and enjoy himself once in a while. After putting him through all they had, he felt the Fates owed it to him.

Molly was the only one who disagreed. Harry was happy for his godfather to do whatever he pleased, just as long as he didn't get into the sort of trouble that would remove him from his life again. And Remus was too busy with his wife and son to put up much of a protest, though he did shake his head indulgently when Sirius sat at his table and boasted about what he'd gotten up to the night before.

Hermione might have disapproved if she'd paid enough attention. As it was, she was much too involved her own new beginning to work up any ire about Sirius's. She was more than happy to come back to the Burrow after a full day, curl up with a good book and ignore the outside world. She enjoyed going out and meeting Ginny and Luna for a glass of muggle wine, or hanging out with Harry and Ron and listening to them talk Quidditch and their Auror training, but she was a lot more comfortable being a homebody then an adrenalin junkie. She'd had enough of that during her school years, thank you very much, and those weren't times she wanted to relive.

The two met and interacted occasionally, mostly when they ran into each other in the hallway of Grimmauld Place while Hermione was visiting Harry, or when Molly threw one of her famous get-togethers, but apart from a welcoming smile and the 'hi, how are you' that followed, neither spent any significant time together. Neither saw the need to. After all, the only thing they had in common was Harry. They were friendly acquaintances who, if it hadn't been for the war, may never have met. And as both remembered a suffocating summer at Sirius's ancestral home where tempers rose easily and lasting impressions were formed, neither witch nor wizard were particularly interested in changing the status quo.

That is until the ministry took away their choice.

~0~

It was an average Tuesday, the day their burgeoning worlds were tipped upside down. Hermione was sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying a cup of tea while Molly flicked her wand over the kippers frying on the stovetop. Miles away, Sirius was happily singing loudly and off-key in the shower, having just enjoyed a good wank. He'd gone out the night before but had come home alone, so didn't have someone to see to that morning ritual for him; not that they would've been in the shower with him anyway, that late in the morning. Sirius was friendly fellow, polite and courteous to his one-night stands, but that's all they were – fun for one night. If anyone stayed over, it was him staying at their place, as the last thing Sirius wanted was for Harry to have to deal with random strangers making themselves at home in his kitchen. He'd just stepped out of the shower and was drying himself off when Harry bellowed up the stairs that mail had arrived for him.

The Owl Post arrived at the Burrow around the same time, and Hermione looked curiously at the envelope addressed to her sitting amongst the pile in the middle of the table. It seemed everyone but Molly and Arthur had gotten one, all addressed in vivid purple ink. She picked it up and turned it over, but was interrupted in the process of opening it by Ginny clattering down the stairs.

"'Morning, Gin. You've got mail," she said with an absent smile, nudging the envelope towards the redhead, who waved her fingers in greeting while yawning widely and sitting to make her own tea, before reaching for the letter. Both witches ripped open their envelopes at the same time, and Hermione took a sip from her teacup as her eyes ran over the parchment.

In the sitting room, the floo activated with a roar and panicked shouts echoed into the kitchen; distracting Ginny from the letter she'd just started reading. Fred and George stumbled into the room clutching letters of their own, Molly swept over looking concerned as their words tumbled over top the other's, and the teacup in Hermione's hand hit the floor and shattered, spilling its contents all over the newly-clean rug.

"No," she breathed, staring blankly at the letter. Ginny looked over at her with a frown.

"Hermione? What's the matter?"

"No," she repeated, voice numb, the hand holding the letter tightening to a fist. "They can't."

"Can't what? What's wrong? Are you all right- _fucking hell!_"

"Ginevra!" Molly admonished, but was soon exclaiming profusely herself as her twin sons shoved their letters in her face. Hermione read her letter for the fourth time, her veins flooding with ice.

_By decree of the British Ministry of Magic… marriage law… between the ages of seventeen and forty-five… unless already married or engaged… repopulate the species… a witch can choose between two approved suitors… married within a month of said witches choice… pregnant within a year of marriage unless proven infertile… regular check-ups… deliberately failing to comply will result in punishment ranging from a term in Azkaban to losing one's status as a member of the British Wizarding community… _

"What's all the bloody racket about?" a voice grumbled from the bottom of the stairs. Ginny shot from her chairs and slapped Ron's letter against his chest. The air quickly turned blue, but Hermione paid no attention. Her eyes were fixed on the two names at the bottom of the parchment.

"Theodore Nott," she whispered to herself, a hand pressed against her churning stomach. "Theodore Nott and… oh God."

At the same time, the second name written on Hermione's letter was glaring at his own in absolute disbelief.

"Hermione Granger," Sirius muttered, teeth clenched. "I'm an option for Hermione Granger? And who the bloody hell is Theodore Nott?"

"What?" Harry barked, head snapping up from gaping at his parchment, "what did you say?"

"They've given fucking Hermione Granger me and Theodore Nott. Who the fuck is Theodore Nott?" the animagus growled. Harry's face hardened.

"Not someone she wants to end up with. He's a bloody Death Eater. I don't understand how they can… how can they… I'm going to the Burrow. You coming?"

He shoved his chair back and Sirius's mind spun. A Death Eater? Picking it apart, he finally placed the name, an image of a smug smirk and artic eyes running through his head. The little prick had gotten off on a technicality. And now…

And now they were giving him to _Hermione Granger?_

He couldn't let it happen. But then, he couldn't marry her either. Sirius didn't want to get married, didn't want to be trapped. Not again, and especially not to an uptight brainiac who was twenty years younger than him!

"Sirius? You coming?"

"Are you one of Ginny's choices?" Sirius asked, still staring at the parchment as his heart thudded unevenly. _Thunk. Thunk, thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk, thunk._ His voice sounded distant to his own ears. Merlin, he couldn't- but _Azkaban!_

"No, but I'm going to bloody well make sure I'm the only choice she has."

"Good lad," his godfather whispered. Was it getting hot in there? Where had all the air gone?

"You'll want to do the same, right? Hermione can't end up with Nott!"

"Yeah. Yeah," Sirius murmured, his chair slowly scraping along the floor as he got to his feet. Fuck, he needed some air. He needed to get out, he needed to process this.

He needed a drink.

"Just. Just not right now. Tell Hermione… shit. Tell H-Hermione I'll, I'll see her later. Yeah, I'll see her later."

He turned on the spot and apparated with a _crack._ Remus found him an hour later at a nondescript muggle pub, deep in his cups. He sat down beside his thoroughly pissed best mate with a sigh.

"So. Hermione, huh?"

"'Don't wanna talk 'bout it, Moony," Sirius slurred, staring broodily into his drink. Remus shook his head and squeezed Sirius's shoulder.

"It'll be all right, Padfoot. We'll get you both through this. I promise."

~0~

Two weeks later, Sirius sat in the living room of the Burrow, eyes narrowed to slits as he watched Hermione's other suitor touch her inappropriately for the third time since they'd both walked in the door. The ministry was insisting that the selection process be fair, so they had sent a representative to oversee the 'courtship', to make sure both suitors got to spend an equal amount of time with their witch. The easiest way to do that was to have both 'court' her at the same time.

No one, neither of the suitors, nor the witch herself, got a say in that process. So Sirius was sitting in a chair next to a very uncomfortable Hermione Granger, the representative was sitting on the other side of the room, and fucking _Nott_ was invading Hermione's personal space, all but groping her every chance he got.

And there was not one bloody thing he could do about it. The only person who could do anything was Hermione, by making her decision. The witch beside him, however, didn't look like she was in a decision-making frame of mind. Going by the blankness of her features and the way she kept jumping, as if she was flinching, the only thing Hermione was concentrating on was trying to get through this meeting.

_Why the fuck is she letting him _do_ that?_

Nott reached out to pick up his mug of tea, his hand 'accidently' brushing over Hermione's breast in the process, and Sirius had had enough.

"She's made her decision."

"Excuse me, Mr Black?" the representative said, looking up from the parchment he was studying. Hermione's head snapped around, her mouth open with shock.

"I said Miss Granger's made her decision."

"She has?" the representative and Nott asked simultaneously. Hermione gaped at him.

"Yes, she has. Haven't you, love?"

"Uh…"

"'Course, it was always going to be me she was going to pick, isn't that right, pet? Hermione and I go way back," Sirius said, reaching for the witches hand and squeezing it _hard_, grey eyes fixed pointedly on brown. "There was only ever really one choice when it came down to it."

"Miss Granger?" the representative questioned, and Hermione blinked, jolting when Sirius squeezed her hand again. Christ, the bloke had a grip!

"Er, right. Right! Yes, I, erm, I choose Sirius."

"Right, then," the representative said, putting his parchments back into his briefcase and getting to his feet. "I shall file this with the ministry immediately. You have thirty days for the marriage to take place. Come, Mr Nott, I'll see to it that you get reassigned."

They left the room, Nott shooting nasty looks over his shoulder, and Hermione and Sirius sat in silence, the ticking from the clock in the kitchen growing louder the longer they sat. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Umm, you didn't have to do that, Sirius."

The animagus laughed, zero humour in the sound. "You're kidding, right? Of course I had to do that. If you think for one second that I'd let you _marry_ that vile little prick after what I just witnessed… no, you have another option and I'm it. Why were you letting him get away with that, by the way?"

A flush grew in Hermione's cheeks and she looked down. "I- I, umm, heard about the way you reacted when you saw my name on the bottom of the letter, and, er, I guess I was trying to give you an out." She shrugged. "At least one of us should have one."

Sirius sighed, then reached out and took her hand for the second time. "Hermione, lass, that didn't have anything to do with you. That had to do with marriage. I don't want to marry anyone, pet. But the fucking _ministry's_ not giving us a choice, are they?" He ducked his head to catch her eye, smiling tentatively at her. "Besides, if I didn't marry you, I'd have to marry someone else, and believe me, I'd much rather marry someone I'm familiar with. You're my best option as well, Hermione Granger. So, thank you for choosing me."

The girl's head lifted, a faltering smile in place, and the two continued to sit, holding hands, for quite a while.

They were married three weeks later.

It was a small affair. The only guests present were Harry, the Weasleys, Minerva McGonagall – who had thrown a fit to rival Fleur Weasley when she'd found out about the law – Hagrid and Remus and Tonks. Hermione Granger became Hermione Black, and husband and wife shared their first very awkward, very chaste kiss at the altar.

Hermione moved into Grimmauld Place the next day. Harry had already moved out, bunking at the Weasleys until he and Ginny got married at the end of the week. Hermione found herself wishing that he hadn't left so soon as she stood in the hallway, eyes flicking from the door of her old bedroom to the stairs leading up to Sirius's. Her hands twisted anxiously over her stomach, her teeth gnawing her bottom lip. She didn't know which way to turn.

Why the bloody hell hadn't they discussed this _before_ they'd said 'I do'? She knew she'd have to sleep with him eventually, they had to have a _baby_ for God's sake, but she didn't want it to happen straight away! She wanted to get to know him first, wanted the chance to develop an attraction!

_You're saying you're not attracted now?_ a little voice whispered in the back of her head, and Hermione frowned. Was she? He was very good-looking. Those eyes and those cheekbones, and that hair, and dear Merlin, that _smirk_ of his-

"Hermione?"

The young witch gasped and spun around, finding Sirius behind her, watching her quizzically. She swallowed, face flushing, her thoughts making her take in the way the beat-up, brown leather jacket over a white muggle t-shirt gave him a rather rough, rugged look, and the way black jeans hugged muscled thighs, not to mention the sizable package between those thighs…

That was hers. All hers.

She felt herself get just a little bit wet, and Hermione's cheeks _burned._

"Something the matter, love?" Sirius asked, studying her closely. On anyone else he would have said that he'd just been thoroughly checked out. But this was Hermione Granger, the bossy, sexless little know-it-all. _She_ couldn't have been checking him out. His eyes lingered on the deep blush.

Could she?

_Black, now. She's Hermione Black._

"No," his new wife squeaked, spinning away from him. "I'm just, erm, not sure where to go."

"To your room?" Sirius suggested, frowning when she shot him a startled look. "It's not your old one, I know, but I thought it'd be better if we were on the same level. Plus, your new room's nicer than your old one. More roomy, go figure."

"Oh," the chit breathed, and Sirius's frown deepened. What was her problem? "You don't, umm, you don't expectmetobewithyou?"

The animagus's mouth dropped open. _That_ was her problem? She thought… for fuck's sake.

"Hermione Granger, I am _not_ the lecherous old man you seem to think I am!" he barked, ignoring the way she jumped at his tone and mouthed the word _Black. _"Of course I don't expect you to be with me! I'd _never_ do that to you! If you think that I spend my days going around defiling virgins just for the fun of it, this arrangement _really_ isn't going to work-"

"I'm not a virgin."

"Huh?" Sirius blurted eloquently, abruptly running out of steam at her interjection. "You're not?"

"No," Hermione whispered, cheeks burning again. She wouldn't look at him. "I, umm, Ron and I, er, at Shell Cottage…"

"Love, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Sirius murmured when she trailed off. The witch shook her head and then turned to face him, determination in the tilt of her chin.

"No, I do. You and I, we have to have a b-baby eventually, and to do that, we have to have sex. You need to know. It was after the whole thing at Malfoy Manor and when I was… I just wanted to feel alive. I _needed_ to feel alive. Ronald was there and, well… it happened. More than once, actually." Her chin tilted higher. "We were there for two weeks and Ronald spent most of those nights in my room."

Sirius pursed his lips, regarding the almost defiant witch. The information came in handy. She was right, they _did_ have to shag eventually, and knowing that she'd have at least some clue what was going on would make it infinitely easier. Sirius didn't generally go for virgins, having found in the past that he enjoyed himself a lot more when his partner for the night actively participated. Though she was still clearly quite innocent – the way she'd had to gather her courage to start the conversation told him that – even some experience was better than no experience at all.

"I take it you kept Harry in the dark about that," he quipped dryly, smirking a little at the way Hermione deflated at the comment. She didn't actually expect him to be disapproving, did she? He wasn't going to judge her for what she'd gotten up to before their marriage. That would've just been hypocritical.

As long as she didn't get up to anything _during_ their marriage. Unless it was with him.

Sirius didn't share.

"Er, yeah, we did," Hermione answered a bit sheepishly. She sent him a shy smile when he chuckled.

"Figured you would've. Love, you do whatever you feel most comfortable doing. You want your own room; you have your own room. You want to be in with me- so, your own room, then," Sirius grinned, thoroughly entertained by the blush and the wide, startled eyes.

_Does that blush go all the way down?_

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do," he continued, shaking his head at his thoughts. "We've a year, after all. That's plenty of time to get to know each other better before we take the leap between the sheets."

A bit of mischief popped into his head, and Sirius stepped up to her and leant down before he could talk himself out of it.

"Besides, pet, when I _do_ get that lovely little body bare, I'll want Ronald Weasley to be that last thing on your mind, _believe me."_

He kissed her cheek and pulled back, smirking when he saw her dropped jaw, before turning and sauntering away.

~0~

They settled into a routine. Hermione would get up first and occupy the bathroom, spending exactly twenty minutes behind the closed door before going downstairs and starting breakfast. At first, she just made enough for herself, not sure if her husband (her _husband_) wanted anything, but she caved the very first time he walked downstairs to the smell of bacon frying and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes.

_Padfoot indeed._

Since they both worked at the ministry, they left for work together, and then once they'd come home for the night, they spent the rest of their evening getting to know each other.

Sirius found that Hermione Granger (_Black_) had grown up. She was no longer the snooty, lecturing little princess you looked at him with condescending eyes and made him feel like he'd never be good enough. She read a lot, yes, but she was always up for putting her book down and getting into a rousing discussion about anything and everything.

Over time, she stopped being nervous and uncertain around him, and the animagus found he enjoyed the person she was once her shyness had disappeared. She was intelligent, opinionated and passionate, and she was _fierce_ when it came to defending her point of view.

He adored it.

Hermione, in turn, realized Sirius wasn't the irresponsible man-child who encouraged Harry's reckless side she'd seen him as when she'd stayed at Grimmauld before fifth year. Yes, he was a Marauder and lived to create mischief, but after a week or so, she stopped cautiously checking every seat she sat in, or sniffing every drink he handed her. He loved to laugh, had a boisterous personality, and was supposed to be a flirt (why the hell wasn't he flirting with _her?_) but he wasn't a grown up carbon copy of Fred and George.

She really liked it.

Soon, it was as if she'd always lived at Grimmauld Place, and as such, Hermione began to treat the house like a home. She stopped rushing towards the bathroom every morning, casting suspicious looks over her shoulder; instead wandering towards it without even bothering with her dressing gown. And as Hermione didn't like to wear long, swathy clothing in bed, her pyjamas were a pair of tight shorts and a figure-hugging camisole – something that caused Sirius to choke on his tongue the first time he got up early and ran into her in the hallway.

"W-what are you _wearing_?" he spluttered, grey eyes slowly running over a slender waist, subtle curves and legs _much_ longer than they should've been given his wife's short stature.

"My pyjamas?" Hermione frowned, looking down at herself. Yip, still wearing them. This pair was a little old and worn in places, but that just made them more comfortable.

"You wear _that_ to bed?"

"Well, sure," Hermione answered, still frowning. She looked up, took in his scandalized expression and scowled, folding her arms under her breasts.

Her brows rose a little at the muffled groan.

"Something the matter, Sirius?"

"No, no, 'course not. I'm just going to… use the loo."

He turned and walked through the bathroom door, closing it behind him, before she even got a chance protest that she usually had first dibs. Hermione scowled at the door, grumbling to herself about men who got dressed and _then_ decided to take a shower, lips pursing and head cocking curiously when the sound of the water cut off, every little bit of noise possible vanishing from inside the bathroom.

Was he using a silencing charm?_ Why?_

Shaking her head, she trotted down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She guessed she was making breakfast first that day.

The next morning, having decided that she quite liked puttering around the kitchen in her sleepwear, Hermione was standing at the stove, poking the bacon when she heard a ripe curse behind her. She turned, eyes widening as she saw a bare-chested Sirius wearing only a pair of Gryffindor-red silk trousers, gawking at her. Her blush rose furiously and she jerked her eyes away, turning back to the stove.

_He has tattoos! How could I not know he had tattoos?_

"Umm, breakfast will be ready soon," she said, voice unnaturally high.

"Mother of Merlin, I'm only fucking human!"

"What?" Hermione frowned, turning half towards him, only to find an empty stairwell. Her frown grew more pronounced and she huffed under her breath, making a mental note to scold him for his rudeness later.

Three weeks and one very rude Sirius later, Hermione was at the end of her tether. She didn't know what had gone wrong. Sirius seemed to be avoiding her as much as possible, and it annoyed the witch to no end to find she _missed_ him. She bit her lip as she stared down at the eggs she was scrambling

Had her growing attraction to him put him off? She knew she wasn't being at all subtle when she was checking him out, but come on! The wizard was _sexy,_ and it wasn't like she'd had much experience with this sort of thing! Ronald certainly didn't have a smooth, broad back she wanted to run her hands over, or lips carved specifically for kissing! And his _hair!_ It wasn't her fault that she dreamt of it swinging around his face while he thrust into her, over and over and over! She couldn't help the way she felt!

Her ire rising, she spun around and pointed the spatula at Sirius when she heard his feet on the stairs, and then the squeak as he tried to hurry back up them, chocolate eyes blazing.

"Sirius Black, you stop right there! I'm sick of this! What have I done wrong? I thought we were friends! I live under this roof and you're treating me like the most horridly mistreated house-elf! I'm your _wife!_ You better start explaining yourself right now or I swear I'll hex you until your bloody bollocks fall off!"

Her mouth snapped shut, chest rising and falling with her anger, and Hermione glowered across the room at her husband, who seemed to be paralyzed. He was watching her, closed-mouthed, grey eyes hooded. Hermione scowled and planted her hands on her hips.

"Well?"

"Fuck, I give up."

Sirius moved, striding across the room towards her, and then suddenly large hand were cupping her head under her hair and Hermione was squeaking as a mouth slanted firmly over hers. She gasped, the end trailing into a moan as Sirius proceeded to snog her within an inch of her life, his tongue gliding over hers, drinking her in in long, slow, shockingly intense gulps. Raw heat poured through her veins, pooling low in her belly and starting a steady, throbbing pulse as he opened his mouth wider and drew her tongue between his lips, sucking on it.

Hermione felt her knees give way. His hands were the only things holding her up.

Groaning, Sirius drew back a little, dragging his tongue over her bottom lip before parting entirely. He stared into her blurred eyes, hands still cupping her head, and Hermione eventually became aware of something long and hard pressing into her stomach.

"This, love, is why I've been avoiding you," he growled, his voice sending a tremble down her spine. "You are an oblivious walking temptation and I'm rock hard every moment of the day. I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't be in the same room with you without imagining bending you over the closest flat surface and _showing_ you how fucking desirable you are."

His hands tightened briefly and then he slowly stepped back, the sides of her face going cold without the heat of his hands warming them. She collapsed back against the bench and stared at him with wide, dark eyes, flabbergasted. Sirius stared back, then blew out a gusty breath and ran a hand through his hair

"So it seems, Mrs Black, you have another decision to make. Take as long as you like; I'll honour whatever you choose. Merlin knows this attraction isn't bloody going anywhere. Now, if you'll excuse me, the shower is calling."

He turned and headed for the stairs, Hermione watching him leave in mute bewilderment. A crazy, random question shot into her head and out of her mouth before her brain had time to catch it.

"Sirius, why do you put a silencing charm on the bathroom door?"

He paused on the stairs, then turned his head, cocked a brow and shot her a slow, toe-curling smirk, the palm of his hand rubbing along his thigh, precariously close to the swell she'd felt pressing against her.

"Why ever do you think, pet?"

Then he was gone, leaving behind him a witch whose lungs seemed to have seized up.

~0~

They were at an impasse. Hermione wanted him, by Christ did she want him, but she couldn't seem to make a decision either way. Her mind would flit from one side of the equation to the other, and whenever she thought she'd made a decision, the con list would rear up in her head and she'd be back at square one. And it didn't help that Sirius was no longer hiding his desire. His eyes were constantly hot, and constantly on her, and now that she knew why there was zero sound from the bathroom in the morning, she couldn't sit still while knowing where he was and what he was up to at that particular time of the day. She was getting very little sleep, as she was being tormented by heated, graphic dreams, and she could not, could _not_, look at him without picturing him nude and aroused and reaching for her, palm up and eyes inviting.

In the end, it was three things that turned the tides. A shower, a forgotten silencing charm, and Hermione's name falling from Sirius's lips as he stroked himself towards completion during his morning ablutions a month after he'd first kissed her, made her decision for her. The witch in question stood stock-still outside the bathroom door, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as Sirius called her name again and again, the word rough and full of need. She stood and swallowed, her hand fisting and pressing against her womb, and as curses began to pepper his speech, his tone turning desperate, almost begging, she suddenly found her hand curling around the doorknob.

Then she was inside the steam-filled room and her pyjamas were hitting the mat on the floor. Her hand reached out to draw the curtain back, and Sirius's head snapped around like a wolf catching a scent.

One look at the bare flesh of the witch he'd been fantasizing about for months had him coming _hard_, all over his rapidly moving hand wrapped around his cock, the tendons in his neck stretching tight as his head arched back and his hips jerked, a loud, throaty groan ringing off the walls. Hermione openly gaped, her heart beating rapid-fire in her chest, that pulse throbbing deep in her centre. Sirius sighed and sagged back under the water's spray, then stared back, speechless.

After a moment of inner scrambling, he regained his equilibrium. Cocking his head and flashing her that arrogant, sensuous smile, he said in a voice made from sin, "well? You've come this far, love. Are you in or out?"

With her brain playing images on repeat of the way her husband looked when he came, a slow sweep over tanned, wet skin, and a nervous lick of her lips, Hermione stepped into the bathtub.

"I didn't forget the silencing charm on purpose, you know," Sirius whispered to her later. They were lying on his bed with the sheet tangled beneath them, and his thumb was lazily strumming her clit while his mouth drew on her nipple. Hermione whimpered as Sirius ghosted his lips up her chest to nuzzle under her ear and nip at the skin, his fingers wandering down to circle and then abruptly push into her, knuckle deep. Hermione cried out, her hips canting sharply off the bed.

"I swear I didn't do it to coerce you," he murmured, rotating his hand and pressing his palm down, making his wife moan and buck again. "I really did forget it. You were walking around in those fucking shorts, and I wanted nothing more than to tear them off and lick you-"

"For Merlin's sake, Sirius, stop teasing and _fuck_ me!"

His eyes darkening dramatically at the demand, Sirius rolled on top of her and did precisely that.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Study of Opposites**

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, _Sirius_ would be real.

**Part Two**

_His eyes darkening dramatically at the demand, Sirius rolled on top of her and did precisely that._

* * *

**A/N - Here you go Worthfull1 (and everyone else), the second part! And look, it ended up being even longer than 11,000 words! ;) Enjoy!**

* * *

After that, Sirius took every opportunity he could to shag his wife senseless. He usually finished earlier than she did, and more often than not, Hermione would floo into the sitting room, Sirius would grab her, and they would end up with him taking her against the wall, or pushing her steadily across the kitchen table as he thrust into her over and over, her cries and his grunts echoing through the house. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. They still kept separate rooms, but as time passed and Hermione began spending most nights in Sirius's bed, the wizard taking pride in the number of times he could make her come on his cock, and his hand, and his mouth, her room sat unused unless she needed a change of clothing.

Sirius was always the instigator, which most of the time he didn't mind. His witch had a young, nubile body, pert breasts and flexible hips, and though it was littered with scars from playing her part in the war, the older wizard loved every inch of it. He constantly thanked his lucky stars that Hermione wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It had been pretty much a given that he'd end up fancying her eventually, with him not getting any and her living under the same roof as him, but the same couldn't be said for the almost twenty-year-old witch.

Having been lost in a memoryless void when he'd gone through the Veil, and then been spat back out again a year to the day he'd gone into it, Sirius was technically thirty-eight years old. Still young in human years, and even younger in magical years. But spending twelve years in Azkaban had aged him both mentally and physically, and his body wasn't what he would've liked it to be. As a result, a small part of Sirius thought that maybe Hermione was only letting him get his end away with her because he was fucking good at making her scream, and since his wife hadn't come on to him, that little part sat there all the time, a constant in the back of his brain.

To say she surprised him the day she made the first move would've been a very big understatement.

"Can I see your tattoos?" Hermione blurted out of the blue one evening, while they were sitting in Grimmauld's library. Sirius had worked from home that day, but his wife had only been home for an hour or two, and hadn't yet bothered to change out of her office attire. He looked up from the book he was researching through, brows at his hairline, a smirk growing slowly when he noticed the nervous way she was fidgeting with the hem of her blouse.

"You've seen my tattoos, love. You see them almost daily, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Hermione answered, flushing under the look in his eyes as he watched her. Merlin, the man could turn her on with a single tilt of his head. It wasn't fair, really. "But I don't actually get to _see_ them. We're, erm, always in such a hurry – not that I don't like it when we hurry," she babbled, swallowing as Sirius's eyes darkened and he deliberately got to his feet, putting his book aside, "I love it, I do, but I don't get to see them in detail and I'd really like to-"

"Of course you can see them, pet," Sirius interjected, voice deep and rumbly. Hermione shivered and crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together. Bloody hell. "I would've shown you sooner if I'd known you were interested."

Two strides had him at her side, making the sofa dip as he took a seat beside her, settling into the corner. Wearing heavy boots, a long sleeved t-shirt the colour of wet stones and black jeans, he reached down and grasped the bottom of the tee, pulling it up and over his head, his hair falling around his face as he threw the garment over the back of the sofa.

"There you go. Have at it, love."

Hermione stared. His torso was on display before her, and while his stomach was just a touch soft, contrasting the ribs that still showed slightly through his skin, something that never went away no matter how much he ate, the muscles in his arms, shoulders and pecs were very nicely defined. Add in tanned skin over the hard muscle, plus the tattoos that dominated his upper chest and arms, and Hermione suddenly found her mouth going dry.

They were beautiful. She knew many of them were probably prison tattoos – when he hadn't been battling the effects of the Dementors, Sirius would have had to face the other prisoners, and the tattoos would've been a way to help him get through the years on the inside – but that didn't make them any less artistic. Apart from the Azkaban brand riding his neck, there was nothing graphic on his chest, just symbols of strength and power. A full sleeve graced his right arm, the ink so thick in places, Hermione couldn't tell what it was meant to represent. A lion in sketch crawled up his left bicep, a pair of antlers cupped his left pec, and she could see quite clearly the moon that filled the space over his heart.

With trembling fingers, she reached out and traced the dog that was crawling over his left shoulder, almost as if it was chasing the antlers and moon tattoo under it.

"No rat?" she whispered, breath catching in her throat when she looked up to meet his eyes. Her husband was looking at her like he wanted to eat her.

"No. Never even considered it. Guess even back then he wasn't important enough," Sirius answered, voice hoarse. Hermione nodded, looking back down at his chest. She watched her fingers continue to glide along his skin, dancing across the ink, tattoos that were his personal choice and ones he'd gotten to survive a life he'd never deserved in the first place, mixing together in a symphony of faded colour and vivid meaning. Sirius's muscles flexed under her exploration, and once or twice she was sure she heard him stifle a groan.

Brows drawn in concentration, her fingers crept down his chest and along his stomach, brushing over the hair that disappeared under his belt. Sirius swore through clenched teeth when her fingers dipped under the belt, and then his hand was capturing hers.

"Be careful, pet. There's no tattoos down there."

Hermione looked up. "I know."

With those words, she abruptly clambered into his lap and kissed him. Taken by surprise, Sirius didn't respond at first, but as he had an undeniably keen witch moving her mouth over his fervently, gripping the back of his neck and rocking herself against the bulge that had grown when her fingers had trailed over his stomach, that didn't last long. Sirius groaned at her assault, running his hands up and down her ribcage, before settling on her hips and beginning to guide her movements, his tongue dancing along hers. She devoured him eagerly; little mews erupting as she moved faster. Sirius's hips rose to meet hers, his mouth streaking down to latch onto her throat… and then she was gone from his arms, his eyes blinking open and staring after her dumbly.

Fortunately, she hadn't gone far.

Hermione pushed herself back into his legs and scrambled for his belt and the button on his jeans, tugging when they came undone, Sirius absentmindedly lifting his hips to help her. Three awkward jerks and his jeans were down enough to allow his cock to spring free, his lovely wife gaping a little at the fact that he'd gone commando. But the sight of his erection with its already weeping tip soon had her forgetting about him not wearing any pants, and she hurriedly climbed off him, reached under her pencil skirt and pulled her knickers down and off, then climbed back on.

All this happened before Sirius could get his head around the fact that _she'd_ come on to _him. _He was still wondering over that, blown away by the fact that she wanted him enough to fucking _dry hump_ him, when his witch took his cock in hand and hiked up her skirt.

"No, wait, what are you doing-_ fuuuck._"

Hermione sunk down on him like an arrow hitting a target. She moaned as she enveloped him, and his hands once again locked onto her hips, the pleasure on her face and the feel of her walls, tight and wet around him, pushing him embarrassingly close to the edge. A breathy sigh escaped her lips once her thighs met his, and then her eyes opened one at a time, deep, dark chocolate meeting smokey, burning grey. She rose up slowly and sunk down again, her mouth falling open and her tongue peeking out, and unable to help himself, Sirius leant in to capture that tongue as his wife picked up the pace and began to ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He tried to slow her down; he really did. Her saying that they were always in a hurry had burrowed into his brain, and he'd been hoping to show her that slow and decidedly thorough was just as phenomenal as fast, hot and dirty. His fingers pressed into the skin of her waist above her skirt, curses filling the library as she rocked and rocked and rocked, gripping tight to try to slow her frantic pace, but Hermione was having none of it. She moaned and rolled her hips, effectively distracting him, and then it was a race to the finish. Sirius tore open her shirt and pulled down the cup of her bra to lave at her breast and bite at her nipple, his hips snapping up as hers sunk down. The sight of her folds taking him in again and again under an obscenely rucked-up skirt made him twitch and swell painfully inside her, and not wanting to go alone, two fingers dipped into her wetness slicking his path and began rubbing rapidly over her clit. Hermione whined and jerked in his arms, spreading her legs wider and grinding on his fingers.

"Oh God, oh fuck, S-Sirius, please, fuck, Sirius, _please!_"

His fingers moved faster, his wife surging over top of him, his balls beginning to tingle and his thrusts falling out of rhythm, their cries simultaneously growing in volume, growing and building and coiling and _tightening__…_

The pressure snapped and Sirius's head shot back, bellowing at the ceiling as he came. His back arched, his lovely young wife echoing his shout, her walls clamping around him like a vice and extending his climax. A drawn-out groan fell from his lips as he fell back against the cushion, muscles slowly unclenching and the heel of one of his boots thumping against the bottom of the sofa, startling a snort from the witch now lying bonelessly against his sweaty chest.

"You still have your boots on," she muttered, lips pressing against ink. She smiled when she felt his silent laughter.

"That I have, love. You still have your skirt on. And your shirt – well, half of it."

_That_ had her jerking back from his chest in a hurry. She gaped down at her ruined blouse and then glared at her husband, tugging her bra back into place. Sirius pouted as her pretty, pink nipples disappeared from his view.

"Sirius Black, this is one of my work shirts! You've destroyed it! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Sirius grinned and jerked her forward to give her a thorough snogging. Once he'd let her go, he sat back, that damnably smirk in place as he watched her blink dazedly.

"I'd have to say that I'm going to have to let you map my tattoos more often. Every day if you like. Over and over and over- ow! Oi, enough of that!"

He laughed as Hermione continued to smack him, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her to his chest, trapping her arms. Hermione sighed and relaxed against him with only a slight grumble, and more than comfortable, he rested his cheek against the top of her head and just enjoyed having her in his arms. Realizing after a while that the deepening of Hermione's breathing meant she'd fallen asleep, Sirius smiled slightly, closed his eyes and joined her.

~0~

They had their first fight a month later. It was a Saturday night and Sirius had been cooped up all day, having spent the weekend working on a project for Kingsley. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the house, and he was very put out when he brought the suggestion to his wife and she shot him down.

"Not tonight, Sirius. I've had a long week and I just want to relax at home," Hermione said, looking away from the fire and smiling at her husband – a smile that disappeared quickly when she saw his frown of annoyance.

"Aww, come on, love! Just one drink at the Leaky! You can handle being out for an hour, can't you?" Sirius whined, annoyance growing when Hermione shook her head.

"Too many people, too much noise. I've had enough of people talking at me."

"Well, I haven't had _nearly_ enough! I want to go out, Hermione! Can't you just do this this one time? I feel like I'm wasting away here!"

Sitting up from the armchair she was curled up in, Hermione scowled at the man standing above her. Why was he making an issue of this? She didn't want to go out! She was more than happy right where she was! A heady mix of irritation and stubbornness shot through her, making her speak before she thought.

"So, go out then! You don't need me holding your hand, do you? You seemed to get along fine visiting countless pubs on your own before we got married, why change a habit of a lifetime?"

Sirius blinked and his face twisted furiously. "Fine! I will!" he snapped, turning and storming from the room. Hermione heard the front door slam behind him and she sank back into her chair with a forlorn sigh, her anger receding just as abruptly as it had appeared.

It was about fifteen minutes of brooding later that she realized that she hadn't felt the wards ping to let her know someone who they were set to had passed through them. Curious despite herself, she got up and headed for the door.

Sirius was sitting on the front step. He looked over when the door opened, and husband and wife stared at each other silently for a second, before a small, slightly sheepish smile tugged at the wizard's lips.

"I didn't actually want to go anywhere without you."

Warmth surged, and Hermione took a step forward and settled herself down beside him.

"How about we go see Harry and Ginny? Or maybe Remus? It's only the noise I didn't want, Sirius. I'm tired and I've a bit of a headache, which the Leaky would've just made worse."

"Why didn't you say that, then?" Sirius asked, looking at her, a frown in his eyes. Hermione shrugged.

"Guess I'm not used to explaining myself to anyone. You wanna go?"

"No, let's stay in," her husband said with a shake of his head, scowling at her playfully when she opened her mouth to protest. "Oi, none of that. I'm giving in here, pet, something that's not going to happen often. You should be taking advantage, you know."

"I thought you wanted to go out?"

"I do, but I think I'd enjoy nursing my wife back to full health more. We can go see Moony tomorrow, all right?"

Hermione smiled. "All right."

"Good," Sirius nodded. "Now, let's go in. It's too cold out here for you if you're not feeling well."

"It's just a stress related headache, Sirius," Hermione pointed out. Her husband grinned at her.

"Indulge me, yeah? This way I get you into bed, and we all know what fun that'll lead to."

Her laughter made his grin widen, and he leant in to give her a smacking kiss as they walked back into the house.

~0~

They got into their second fight – or maybe their first _real_ one – when Hermione found out about her husband and Remus.

The werewolf had decided to throw his own Weasley-esk style shindig and the night had been a success. Sirius had enjoyed himself immensely, sitting with his old friend and reminiscing, firewhiskey in hand, but he'd noticed as the night progressed that his wife didn't seem to be enjoying herself quite as much. She was watching him and Remus, something in her eyes he couldn't read, and for two days afterwards, Sirius studied her back, wondering when she was going to broach whatever was bothering her.

Because something _was_ bothering her. It was in the way she held herself, in the way she didn't let their conversations go any deeper than small talk. He was just reaching the end of his patience when Hermione walked into the kitchen and took a seat.

Sirius stopped rummaging through the fridge for the makings of lunch and approached the table, grey eyes wary.

"Decided to get it out, have you?"

Hermione frowned a little, but other than that didn't acknowledge the comment. She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath to steady her nerves as the wizard sat down and waited.

"You're bisexual, aren't you?"

Well, _that_ certainly hadn't been what he'd been expecting. Sirius blinked.

"I don't generally put a label on it, love, but yeah, I've had a bit of both in my time," he replied slowly, cocking his head at her. Hermione nodded and drew another shaky breath.

"Did you and Remus used to be in a relationship?"

Her husband's gaze sharpened. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?" he murmured, watching her. Something was beginning to twist in his chest and it was making him uncomfortable. Hermione frowned, opened her mouth and closed it again, then shook her head.

"There's… there was this _subtext_ in your conversation the other night. You were nostalgic, sure, but it was more than that. Deeper than that. I'm not stupid, Sirius, I can read between the lines."

"I never thought you were stupid, Hermione," Sirius replied, eyeing her carefully, "and I'll also never cheat on you, if that's what you're worried about. I take my vows seriously, no matter why they're made."

"I know that, I do, but I also know that there's more than one type of cheating. Could you please answer the question? I'd like to know."

"No, I won't answer the bloody question, because I don't see why I have to justify something like that to you," the animagus abruptly growled, more annoyed than the conversation warranted. The twisting tightened. He pushed off the chair and reached for the top cupboard, where he kept the firewhiskey. "It's in the past, love, can't we just leave it there?"

"How can it be in the past if it's reflecting in the present?" Hermione snapped back, rising from her seat and glaring. "He's married, Sirius! He has a wife and son! They were circling each other before you even went through the Veil, for Merlin's sake!"

"_I know that!_" Sirius hissed, spinning around and glowering at her angrily, the bottle wobbling on the countertop when his elbow struck it. "Don't you think I know that? He's moved on, and for fuck's sake, Granger, _so have I!_ I'm married to _you!_"

Hermione stared at him. "Just because you're married to me, doesn't mean you're with me, Sirius," she eventually said in a small voice. "And it's Black now, isn't it?"

She left the room and Sirius stood alone in kitchen with a nip in his tumbler and his eyes on the stairs she'd retreated up, the snick of her bedroom door closing loud in the silence. Well, fuck if _that_ hadn't gone downhill quickly. He scowled and threw the alcohol back in one gulp, gritting his teeth as it burned through his chest, highlighting the twisted knot.

~0~

Going to bed that night, Sirius fully expected to find it empty. His wife's room was much more of a spare room nowadays, the witch sleeping in his bed even when they didn't shag each other silly before falling asleep. She'd even moved her clothes into the closet, something she'd done without discussing with him first, and then had twitched with nerves until he'd opened the closet to hang up his shirt that night and had found the new additions.

Though it had flummoxed him for a second, Sirius knew his wife well, so all he'd done was turn and send her a single teasing smirk before climbing into bed and drawing her against his side. Hermione had held herself tense in his arms until she'd realized that he wasn't going to comment, and Sirius had literally felt her sag in relief.

Sirius found he liked it. He liked watching her go through her routine as she got ready for bed every night, liked waking up in the morning to find her curled into his side, and he _loved_ being able to wake her up with his mouth and tongue in different places whenever the mood struck.

It struck quite often.

Already anticipating sleeping with extra space next to him – or not sleeping, so to speak – Sirius walked into the room and stopped when he saw her small form curled up in a ball under the covers. He hesitated in the doorway for a minute and then walked into the room, tugging off his shirt and jeans, slipping into the silk trousers he wore to bed. Then, he drew the covers back and slipped between the sheets, moving across the mattress until he was an inch away from spooning her.

She didn't move. He knew she was awake; he'd known as soon as he'd opened the door. However, she didn't make a sound, didn't acknowledge him, and Sirius found himself _needing_ that acknowledgement. His hand raised, hovered over her shoulder, then fell. He sighed and turned over onto his back.

"We were together in school," he murmured into the darkness. Next to him, Hermione tensed, which he took as an encouraging sign. "Moony… Moony was there for me in a time when I needed someone. Needed him. He was familiar and comfortable and he made me feel safe, right when acceptance and a sense of normalcy was exactly what I craved. You know what my family were like, love."

"Yes," Hermione whispered, and Sirius blew out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Yeah, well, they kicked me out and James and Remus were there. Prongs had Lily, he always had Lily, even when they weren't together, but Moony… one thing led to another and before we knew it school was over and we were living together in a flat no bigger than a broom closet."

"You lived together?" Hermione asked, turning over and facing him. She didn't close the gap between them. Sirius nodded and turned his head towards her.

"For a while. They were some of the best years of my life."

"You loved him."

It wasn't a question, but Sirius answered it like one.

"Yes. But then Halloween 1981 happened and I went away for twelve years. When I got out… it was different. I thought at the time that he was different, and I suppose he was, but it was more that _I_ was different. Remus reminded me too much of a dead past and a future I'd thrown away, so I stayed away from him." Her hair lay across the pillow. Sirius's hand rose again and then the strands were between his fingers like they belonged there. The tight knot in his chest eased somewhat. "'Course, I couldn't do that when he moved in once this place became Headquarters, but then Remus met my cousin and I saw absolute proof that we were done, no matter how much the git fought what was right."

Her curls dropped to the pillow and his hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing along the skin. "Because it _was_ right, pet. Remus loves little Tonksy. Loves her so much and I'm happy for them. He's my best mate, the only one of us four I have left besides myself, but I don't feel more for him than that. Not anymore. I swear it."

Hermione licked her lips. "If… if Remus had never met Tonks and had stayed single after he'd moved in, w-would you have wanted them to develop again?"

"I…" His mouth opened and closed, unexpectantly thrown by the question, and panic fluttered in his chest, tightening the knot again when Hermione closed her eyes and drew her face away. "No, look, don't do that. Please, I'm trying to be honest. If you'd asked me that question six months ago, I'm not sure what my answer would've been."

"Seems like you don't know what your answer is now," his wife muttered. Sirius sighed.

"Only because I've never thought of it and it stumped me for a moment. Memories are strong, Hermione. But that's all they are. Memories. When this law popped out of nowhere and we were forced together, I thought my life had hit a low note." He leant in and took her waist, tugging her towards him and pressing his face into her neck. The scent of her skin flooded his senses, helping relax the compressed muscles down his spine. "Turns out it was the opposite. I'm _happy_, pet. You make me happy. That's more than I ever thought I'd get after the thing with Moony ended. Please don't let something done and gone drop that note again."

He held his breath while she thought it over, air escaping in a whoosh when her arms reached out and encircled him, the knot dissolving as if it had never been. He squeezed her tight, head lowering when she muttered something against his chest.

"What was that?"

"I said this is your fault. All your bloody fault. I didn't want this to happen, but it did, and now I'm stuck with it. It's your fault, Sirius, and what's even more frustrating is I'm in it alone. You couldn't have possibly been less _you?_ Stupid, ruddy arse."

Sirius frowned. "Love, I've no clue what you're on about."

"Of course you don't," Hermione sighed. Sirius's frown grew and his witch pulled back, kissed him softly then patted his cheek. "Don't worry about, okay? Go to sleep, now. It's late."

"O-kay?" he mumbled, thoroughly confused. Hermione just shook her head and settled into his chest. There was silence as they both tried to shut down.

Sirius's eyes opened when something floated into his head. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she murmured, voice slow with sleep.

"Your last name _is_ Black."

He felt her startle into full consciousness and then felt her lips curve upwards against his breastbone.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

~0~

It was a month later when the ministry got walloped across the jaw because of their stupid, self-serving law. Sirius was working from home again, something he was doing a lot lately, and his quill was scratching steadily across his parchment when a Patronus burst into the room, startling him so badly, a giant inkblot squirted across the document. Sirius scowled down at it and then turned to the silvery wolf.

"The ministry's been attacked. I'll meet you there."

Remus's voice faded and the quill snapped in two in Sirius's hand, horror and panic rising in his throat like vomit.

_Hermione!_

The air twisted and pulled, squeezing him through a skinny tube, and then Sirius was surrounded by people swarming everywhere, screaming and crying, pouring from the entrance to the ministry. His head shot left and right frantically, feet running, heart pounding, and Merlin, he couldn't see her, she was here, she had to be, she'd left that morning, she had to be all right, she _had_ to be, where was she?

Where was she?

"Sirius!"

The Animagus spun around to see Remus coming towards him, Harry behind him with blood trickling down his cheek. Another kind of panic grew and before he knew it, his hand was under his godson's chin.

"Fuck, Harry, you're hurt!"

"I'm fine, Sirius." Harry gently withdrew his face from his godfather's hands and sent him a tired smile, his trainee Auror robes tattered and dirty. "It's nothing, just got caught with a stray hex. The fight's over. Seems a group or two weren't at all happy with the marriage law and decided to let the ministry know that in a rather violent manner. They're dealing with the perpetrators now."

"Were there many hurt?" Sirius asked, even as his brain repeated constantly, _where is she, I can't see her, she's okay, she has to be okay, where is she…_

"Some. Not many. Most are already at St. Mungo's. They're just getting the last of them out."

Sirius's head shot back towards the building, his body moving him forward an urgent step. "Hermione?"

"Hermione? Haven't seen her. But she'll be all right, Sirius, you know she can take care of herself- Sirius, wait!"

"You should've known that would happen," Remus muttered to his ex-student as they both took off after the quickly disappearing animagus. Harry grimaced.

"Yeah, sorry, didn't think. She'll be okay, though, won't she?" he asked, suddenly looking worried. Remus sighed.

"She's Hermione, Harry. She's as good at looking after herself as my wife is. But for Padfoot's sake, I really hope so."

Sirius ran. The entrance was getting closer, but the number of people exiting it was growing as well, and the closer he got to it, the more his panic grew. He needed to see her. She needed to be all right. He was going to tear someone apart if she was hurt! Fuck, she had to be okay. She had to be! He couldn't lose her, he couldn't, not when he'd just found her!

Where _was_ she?

"Hermione!" he bellowed, voice getting lost in the humdrum of noise. He craned his neck and shoved past the body in his way. "Hermione!"

"Sirius, the easiest thing to do would be to go to St. Mungo's! You'll never find her this way!"

"I'm not going fucking _anywhere_ until I know she's safe!" Sirius snapped at Remus over his shoulder. "Why the fuck aren't _you_ panicking? Your wife's here as well!"

"I know she is, but she's a fully trained Auror! I have to believe she's fine!"

"Yes, well, my wife isn't, is she? She could be hurt or… she could be… _fuck_. Hermione! _Hermione!"_

"Sirius?"

Her voice cut through the outcry, dulling it to a soft buzz in his ears. His body whipped around, grey eyes lighting on his witch standing at the edge of the crowd, looking around in confusion and a little bit of fear. She was wearing the skirt and blouse she'd put on that morning, her curls twisted up at the back of her head, and there wasn't a mark on her.

There wasn't a mark on her.

_She was fine._

"Sirius? Are you here? What's going on? I don't- oh! Sirius, what are you _doing? _Put me down!"

The roar from the crowd faded as Sirius strode away from it, a protesting, struggling witch in his arms. He ignored her and walked for two blocks until he came to a bench, his body folding down on to it, his wife in his lap. His arms surrounded her and he buried his face in her neck.

"Sirius, just what do you think you're doing? What's going on? You can't just cart me off- you're trembling. Why are you trembling? Sirius, love, what's wrong?"

"I thought I'd lost you," he mumbled, wrapping himself around her like a vine. Hermione looked over at Remus and Harry in panic, but all they did was smile in assurance and quietly back away. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Lost me? Of course you haven't. Why would you ever think that? And what was going on back there? Sirius, please, you're scaring me."

"I- I just… I need to hold you. Need to. Be right in a minute, I just…"

"Okay, okay, shh, I'm here, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," he rasped, breathing in her scent, basking in the feeling of her body pressed to his. "Okay."

He held her for a very long time before he was able to convince himself to loosen his grip a little. He sat on the bench and drew in one breath after another, Hermione trailing her fingers through his hair and pressing absent kisses to the top of his head. Slowly, far too damn slowly, the horrid, heavy feeling of despair and dread in his chest slackened, unwinding and morphing into a solid _rightness._ It spread and grew and poured through him, washing away the loss, bright and hot and true, and so fucking unending_._

Maybe it hadn't morphed at all. Maybe it'd been there all along.

"I love you, Hermione Black."

All movement from the witch in his arms stopped.

"What?"

"I said I love you," Sirius repeated, voice getting stronger. He lifted his head and stared into chocolate eyes as wide as saucers. "I think I have for a while. But I'm a brainless dolt, aren't I, who can't see what's right in front of his eyes, so it took the thought of losing you to make me realize it. You don't have to say it back, I just needed to get it out-"

"I love you, too."

"You do?" Sirius gaped, drawing an almost hysterical giggle from his wife. She nodded her head, eyes sparkling, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

"Yeah, I do. I really do. I thought it was just me."

"No, it's not just you- wait a minute. Is that what that strange scolding was about? When you said you were in it alone?"

He scowled when Hermione flushed further and nodded.

"Bloody hell. If you'd told me then it probably would've smacked me into shape, and maybe then I wouldn't have freaked out so much when I couldn't find you! Where the hell were you anyway? You certainly weren't in that bloody building!"

The starry-eyed look vanished in an instant. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Sirius Black, are you _blaming _me for keeping the way I felt to myself because I was afraid of getting my heart broken? You arrogant prick! You should be _happy_ that I wasn't in the bloody building!"

_People poured from everywhere, but he couldn't find her. He couldn't find her. Where was she? He couldn't find her!_

"You said you were going to work and then Remus tells me the ministry's being attacked! I didn't know if you were hurt, didn't know if you were still in the thick of things, I didn't know a fucking thing! Wherever you were better have been fucking _worth _it, Hermione, because I don't _ever_ want to go through something like that again!"

He glared at her, heart racing, and Hermione's face softened. Something flickered through her eyes and she reached out and took his hand, placing it over her stomach.

"It was worth it, Sirius. It was definitely worth it. More than I thought it was going to be."

Sirius frowned. "You're speaking in riddles again, love."

Hermione laughed. "All right. It was worth it because I was at St. Mungo's-"

"St. Mungo's? Why were you there? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"If you'd shut up for a minute, I'll tell you, all right?" Hermione grinned, shaking her head at his pout. "I'm perfectly fine. More than fine. I'm the best I can be." Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. "Sirius, I'm pregnant."

There was a short pause.

"What?" he croaked, fingers clenching convulsively over her stomach. "You're what?"

"Pregnant, Sirius, I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father."

There was a rushing in his ears. Why was there a rushing in his ears? Sirius swallowed and sat, dumbfounded. He sat for so long, his wife began to look worried.

"Hey, you're happy about this, aren't you? It had to happen eventually. You've gotten me on my back so often that it was bound to happen, the law notwithstanding. Sirius? Say something!"

"You're pregnant?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, watching him anxiously.

"I'm going to be a father?"

"_Yes_, Sirius, for Merlin's sake-"

She shrieked when the wizard shot off the bench and lifted her in his arms, twirling her around in a circle, repeating over and over, "I'm going to be a father! I'm going to be a father!"

"Yes, you are!" Hermione replied, shouting with laughter. "Now put me down, you goon!"

"Fuck!" the animagus swore, hurriedly setting her on the ground and splaying his fingers across her stomach again. "Did I hurt you? Did I hurt it? Is it okay?"

"It's fine, love," his wife chuckled, taking his hand and curling hers around it. "Now, let's go back, shall we? You've still got to tell me what it is that I walked into."

"No, no, let's go home; you need to lie down-"

"I'm pregnant, not a bloody invalid! Christ, you're not going to be like this for the next seven months are you?"

"You're two months along? Wait, why didn't you invite me to the hospital appointment? What did they say? Are there any potions you should be taking? Maybe I need to take some time off work. There's so much to do after all, the nursery, and figuring out who'll be godparents, all that type of stuff…"

Hermione shook her head in amusement as her husband continued to mutter to himself, not even realizing she was leading him back towards the ministry, where she was sure their friends would be waiting. He'd reacted so differently to the way she had when the Healer had told her. She'd been elated and then completely petrified. Still was, to tell the truth. Her husband, though, he seemed insanely excited, not even dwelling on the unalterable changes, and the financial cost, and the thought they might end up being terrible parents.

Then again, they were different people, weren't they? They were as different as night and day.

_Fuck that,_ Hermione thought, her heart melting at the way her husband constantly reached out to touched her, almost unconsciously, as if he couldn't trust his eyes to confirm that she was still beside him. She smiled at him and lifted his fist to kiss the back of his knuckles. Who bloody cared if they were opposites?

After all, opposites attract.


End file.
